James Holmes

LOCAL MATTERS.

COVINGTON INSUSTRIES.

The Retort Works.

There is a certain Councilman, famous for his retorts in that body, and famous for his retorts wherever gas, or glass, is made. His retorts are famous in the one place because of his Irish wit, and in the other because of his genius, whether it be Irish or American, inborn or acquired. He was sitting in his office, yesterday, with a bright fire burning in the stove, and the smoke finding egress through one of his own made fire-clay chimney linings, which stood upon the floor in one end of the room, the top disappearing through the ceiling just like such a length of crockery pots, without the sign of a bit of brick or stone about them.

The office was as hot as an oven, dingy and dust covered, while the master sat at a table writing, with letters, papers, books, and pieces of iron machinery all around in a perfect chaos of confusion. His sleeves were rolled up, showing a clean, white, knit undershirt, in sad contrast with his face and hands, that were begrimed and dirty.

He is a pleasant man, exceedingly so to those for whom he take a liking, and many a good joke he tells about this one and that prominent man in Covington politics ten years ago, and still prominent. But they won't all bear repeating, for the reason that some of those men who then tricked him are now "obliged," as he says, to him, and he's got the evidences.

Chalked out on the floor of the office, that we will wager our blue-glass specs, hasn't been swept in eight years, except here and there a spot as needed, was the diagram of the Mt. Sterling Gas works, and to the left of the little man sitting at the table, was the model of a new hydraulic press, that his inventive genius has snatched from the realm of possibilities. What that small head doesn't contain on the subject of retort (clay retort) making, will not be found in many brains. The man was raised at glass making. He drew breath first in Belfast, Ireland, a little over forty-three years ago. He and his brother made glass at Blayden, Newcastle, on the Tyne, in England, until James was about turned twenty-one, when they sold out and came to this country. They built a glass house in St. Louis, and ran it until the death of a brother, when James came to Covington on a prospecting tour, with New York in his eye. Previous to disposing of the St. Louis glass works, however, he became extremely interested in the subject of clay and glass house pots, and he carried a bite of the German clay (all clay for that purpose was then brought from Germany and England) around in his pocket, and one day stumbled on a contractor — [he has got used to contractors since his seat in Council], who said he thought he knew where that kind of clay was to be had near the city. Next morning, bright and early, Holmes was out with a friend in a buggy in search of the place. He found it as described, and there was a big bed of the clay. Instead of buying the land right away and making his fortune, the man spread the good news broadcast; that land riz and the owner waxed fat and wealthy.

When he got to Covington Mr. James Holmes was induced to stop by his friends, the Gray & Hemingray Glass Company. He started a glass house where the old bagging factory stood, and where Mitchell & Tranter's mill now stands. The Board of Advisors stopped his glass works during martial law at the time of the war; and, rather than throw his men, whom he had induced to come here, out of employment, he leased the works to the Messrs. Jukes Bros. for three years, and gave all his attention to his retort works which, by this time, he had gotten well under way. Right here, he tells a joke on the Advisors. They refused him a permit to ship his retorts, and he communicated to the Louisville Gas Company, from whom he had a large order for shipping. The gas company had influence, and up came a gentleman with a permit from the General commanding the State to send their retorts. The permit had an immense red seal, says Mr. Holmes, and although it was good only for that shipping, yet as long as martial law existed he showed the same seal to the soldiers on guard, and shipped all the wares he wanted and wherever he pleased. They never took the trouble to read the permit.

Mr. Holmes was the inventor of clay retorts, and for fourteen years carried on the only manufactory of the kind in the country. Now the demand has become immense, other factories have started, and but very few iron retorts are used. They are almost obsolete.

The raw material clay is obtained is obtained from a certain point in Ohio. Broken pieces of old retorts or chimney linings are ground to a powder in a mashing machine, the wheels of which weigh four thousand pounds. There is to be a kind of lever for the raw material. After the broken bits are powdered, the raw material is thrown into the masher with it, mixed and a little stream of water turned on until the whole is of a dampness suitable for moulding.

At the bottom of an iron cylinder of the required shape is placed a log of wood covered with zinc. This log is called the "heart," and upon it is thrown the damp clay, which is carefully rammed down on the sides as the "heart" is drawn slowly up by means of a screw. This presses the sides of the retort solid, and after the heart is withdrawn and the patching and mending at the top gone through with, the cylindrical mould is removed and the retort allowed to stand until dried, when it is taken out to a kiln, something like a brick kiln, and burnt to the required hardness. Even in the little thing of conveying the retort to and from the kiln, the inventive genius of the man in whose brain originated the idea of clay retorts is exemplified. The carriage is a simple contrivance, but perfect in its working, never breaking or jolting the load.

Clay chimney linings are made after the same principle, except that the clay is pushed through a cylinder made in the required shape, and with a center piece to preserve the hollow.

Mr. Holmes has invented an immense hydraulic press that promises to work like a charm, turning out a retort every thirty minutes. It is not entirely completed, so that it is not put together yet. All the parts are done and as soon as the hands find time it will be in working order. It is a grand press, built upon the simplest of principles, and if it proves to be a success, of which there can be little doubt, the inventor and proprietor has a fortune in his grasp. The old fashioned iron retorts used to last about seven months, and cost over $100 apiece. The clay retorts last on an average four years, and cost about $35. Mr. Holmes says the greatest objection he has to his retorts are they last altogether too long.